The abandoned watchtower sat crookedly at the forest's edge, its dark stone half-swallowed by vines. In my previous life, this place had been little more than a hideout for bandits—before they murdered me, that is. A nostalgic location, really.
Now, with my new undead companion at my heels, the tower felt less like a ruin and more like the beginnings of a throne room.
Elara stepped beside me, her shadow cloak fluttering in the wind as she gazed up at the decrepit structure.
"This is… your base, Master?"
"For now."
She tilted her head. "It's rather… humble."
"It won't be for long."
She nodded. "As long as you are here, I shall remain by your side."
I froze.
There she goes again—saying things that sounded far too romantic for someone who literally died an hour ago.
"Princess," I said slowly, "you're a shadow minion. You don't need to talk like a devoted lover."
She blinked innocently. "But I want to."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do you remember your life?"
"Fragments," she admitted. "Faces without names. Feelings without context." Her voice softened. "I remember loneliness. And… cages made of gold."
Ah. That explained a lot.
Royal life was usually suffocating—especially for someone like her. Her emotional attachment to me was… well, partially the Shadow Bond, partially the trauma of her past life, and partially the fact her soul was in my pocket.
Literally.
I patted the pouch on my belt.Her faintly glowing soul-thread pulsed inside.
"Come," I said. "Let's go inside."
We entered the watchtower. Dust coated the floor, cobwebs draped the ceiling, and old wooden crates lay smashed in the corner.
Elara wrinkled her nose.
"I know you're undead," I said, "but don't start acting fancy."
"I'm not fancy," she protested. "I simply have standards."
She still looked disgusted.
"Shadow Sweep," I muttered.
Darkness rippled across the stone floor, devouring dust and debris, leaving everything spotless. The air shifted, becoming cool and crisp.
Elara's eyes lit up. "Oh! That's much better."
"I aim to please," I said dryly.
She smiled—a small, genuine curve of her lips.
Then she immediately froze, touching her cheek.
"…Master?"
"Yes?"
"I just… smiled."
"Well, yes."
"I didn't think I still could."
I raised an eyebrow. "You thought being undead meant no expressions?"
"I wasn't sure." She hesitated. "Am I still… me?"
I stepped closer and tapped her forehead."Technically? No. But you're the version of you that's useful."
She blinked, then chuckled softly. "I suppose that's good enough."
Her smile widened slightly.
Huh.
She really could still smile.
Interesting.
I turned away before she noticed the faint surprise on my face."Let's go over your new abilities."
"Abilities?" she asked, perking up.
"Yes. You're not a normal undead. My shadows evolve with their former identities intact—partially."
"Partially?" she repeated, tone wary.
"You retain your intelligence, memories that don't hinder you, emotions that support loyalty, and the capacity for growth."
She blinked several times. "That sounds… oddly generous for someone who calls themselves a villain."
I scowled. "It's not generosity. A smart minion is more useful than a mindless one."
Her lips curled upward again. "Of course, Master."
I summoned my interface.
[Shadow Unit: Princess Elara]• Rank: Elite• Strength: 56• Agility: 62• Magic: 89• Loyalty: 100 (Absolute)• Special Skill:Soul Echo — Retains emotional resonance from past life, increasing resistance to Mind Disruption and enabling personal growth.
That last part explained the blushing, smiling, complaining, and… clinginess.
I dismissed the interface.
"Your magic is high," I said. "Did you train as a mage?"
She nodded. "Light magic."
I froze.
"…Light?"
"The purest kind," she said proudly.
I pointed at her.
"You're a shadow now."
She looked guilty. "I'm sorry."
"You can't use light magic."
"I noticed," she murmured.
Of course she couldn't. Light and shadow didn't mix—unless the system decided to do something ridiculous.
"Try channeling your magic," I said.
Elara stepped back, raising her hands. Wisps of black-purple aura flickered between her fingers, twisting like smoke.
She gasped. "This isn't light."
"No kidding."
"It feels… heavier. Deeper. Like my heart is a bottomless well."
Her voice trembled with awe.
"It's shadow magic," I said. "Your element changed when you died."
"I see," she whispered. "Then I shall master it—for you."
I coughed."Good. Keep your devotion focused on your job."
"What job?"
"Your first assignment: help me conquer this kingdom."
Her eyes sparkled ominously.
"Gladly."
Elara moved around the tower with elegance, arranging crates, clearing space, and repairing broken furniture using her shadow-infused magic.
She worked silently until—
"Master?" she called.
"Yes?"
She held up a rotten wooden chair… now repaired with beautifully carved legs and dark patterns swirling along its backrest.
I blinked.
"You… are unexpectedly good at interior design."
She looked proud. "I always wanted to decorate my own room. Royal protocol didn't allow it."
"So this is your rebellion?" I asked.
"Yes," she said firmly. "I shall decorate our evil lair with passion."
"Not evil lair," I corrected. "Temporary base."
She waved her hand dismissively. "Same thing."
I didn't bother arguing.
By the time the sun climbed halfway into the sky, the ruined tower looked… strangely cozy. Dim candles lit the walls, crates had become makeshift tables, and Elara had somehow found dried herbs to place in a vase.
She dusted her hands. "There. Much better."
I stared at her.
"You're disturbingly efficient for someone who died today."
She smiled. "I'm motivated."
I had a feeling I knew why.
Night fell.
The forest became still, the moon casting pale light through the tower windows. I sat at a table, studying the map I had stolen earlier.
Elara approached quietly.
"Master," she said softly, "may I… ask you something?"
I didn't look up. "Ask."
"What were you like—before?"
I paused.
In my previous life, I had been weak. Insignificant. A nobody who died without leaving a mark.
But I wasn't about to admit that.
"Different," I said.
She stepped closer, leaning over my shoulder.
"Was it a painful life?"
"…Yes."
"Then I'm glad," she said gently, "that you reincarnated."
I stared at her.
She met my gaze without flinching.
"I'm glad," she repeated, "that you're here. With me."
Damn it.
Why was an undead princess so emotional?
"Go sit somewhere," I muttered.
She giggled—actually giggled—before obeying.
Midnight.
A strange rustling noise echoed outside.
I rose instantly, summoning a shadow blade. Elara stepped beside me, magic swirling around her.
"Another assassin?" she whispered.
"No," I murmured.
The rustling grew louder.
Branches snapped.
Heavy footsteps approached.
A deep, guttural snarl vibrated through the air.
Elara's eyes widened. "A forest beast?"
"No," I said.
Something massive slammed against the tower door.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Elara leapt back, magic gathering in her palms.
The door splintered.
A hulking boar-like creature—twice the height of a man and covered in bony spikes—burst into the room, drool hanging from its jagged tusks.
Its eyes glowed crimson.
"A corrupted beast," I said.
Elara whispered, "Master…what do we do?"
I grinned.
"Simple."
I raised my hand.
"We kill it—and make our first monster shadow."
Elara's eyes sparkled.
"Master…"
"Yes?"
She smiled brilliantly.
"This is the most exciting day of my life."
"You're dead."
"Still counts!"